


let's get lovely

by myrmidryad



Series: still (mostly) human [4]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, half-veela!enjolras, werewolf!Grantaire
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-27
Updated: 2014-04-27
Packaged: 2018-01-21 00:23:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1531139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myrmidryad/pseuds/myrmidryad
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The porny not-quite epilogue to despite everything (the previous part of this series).</p>
            </blockquote>





	let's get lovely

**Author's Note:**

> Shhhhhhhh let's pretend I'm not posting this literally five months after the last part of this series, let's all hold hands and pretend that gap never happened.
> 
> Title from [Animal](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZW1SUjHOeJo) by Empires

“How did this happen, anyway?”

Grantaire smiled through a clenched jaw, watching his skin knit together and heal under the essence of dittany Enjolras was very carefully dripping onto the long cut down his upper arm. “The stranger got skittish, that’s all. She got scared, so she pulled a knife.”

“You have a _wand_ ,” Enjolras said pointedly, capping the little bottle and giving Grantaire a look as he stood up.

Grantaire rolled his eyes. “You know I don’t use my wand when I meet other werewolves.” A lot of werewolves didn’t have wands for one reason or another, and rubbing his privilege in their faces would be a sure-fire way of getting far worse than a little cut on his arm.

“Which is clearly an idea in need of revision.” Enjolras raised an eyebrow and Grantaire grinned up at him, sprawled loose-limbed in Enjolras’ armchair.

“It was fine. She got spooked, that’s all. Max told me she was bitten too young.”

“You were bitten young, weren’t you? You turned out okay.”

Grantaire’s smile faded. “I was lucky.”

Enjolras looked down at him in silence, and Grantaire looked away and pulled his shirt and robe back over his shoulder, suddenly feeling very exposed. “Grantaire?”

“Mm?”

“Look at me.”

It sounded more like a question than a command. Grantaire still had to force himself to obey it, looking up without lifting his head. Enjolras was gazing down at him with his lips slightly parted, eyes raking slowly over his body in a way that made Grantaire suppress a shiver. When Enjolras’ eyes finally met his, Grantaire felt extremely pinned, and the feeling only increased when Enjolras put one hand on the arm of the chair and leaned down.

Grantaire closed his eyes in anticipation of a kiss, but Enjolras didn’t give it to him. Instead, skin brushed his cheek, and his eyes fluttered open as Enjolras’ breath gusted against his neck. They were barely touching, and Grantaire focused on the ceiling, mouth falling open as Enjolras pressed the lightest of kisses to the curve of his jaw.

“Enjolras,” he breathed, barely audible.

Enjolras didn’t respond verbally, but kissed a spot just below his ear. His hair tickled Grantaire’s face, but he couldn’t move. He could hardly breathe. Enjolras’ nose pressed for a moment against his neck, and Grantaire tipped his head back further, exposing his throat, eyes falling half-closed. Enjolras shifted, hair curling against Grantaire’s chin as he ducked down to brush his lips against Grantaire’s adam’s apple.

Grantaire’s breathing was becoming uneven. He tried to fist his hand in the material of his robe, but his grip was too weak – he couldn’t squeeze properly. Enjolras wasn’t touching him anywhere but his face and neck, and Grantaire made a small sound in his chest when Enjolras moved back around to the side of his head and pressed his mouth against his hairline, behind his ear.

“Enjolras…”

Enjolras skimmed his jaw along Grantaire’s, pulling back slowly. Grantaire’s eyelids fluttered, catching glimpses of blonde hair and pale skin as Enjolras’ nose ghosted along his cheek, lips agonisingly close to kissing him but not quite closing the distance. He could feel Enjolras’ little exhales, and his own breathing shuddered, desperation burning hot in the pit of his stomach.

“Enjolras,” he whispered, forming the word with tongue alone, not daring to move his mouth now Enjolras was so close. Their lips brushed for a fraction of a second, and Grantaire sucked in a sharp breath, swallowing it down and holding back a whine when the side of Enjolras’ nose rubbed against his. He could feel the heat coming from Enjolras’ skin, and he swallowed again, a helpless, high sound catching in his throat when Enjolras smoothed the side of his mouth up to the corner of Grantaire’s eye and kissed him there so gently it was barely a kiss at all.

“Enjolras…” Grantaire’s breath hitched, and Enjolras trailed a line of butterfly-light kisses back down to the corner of his mouth. Grantaire felt practically drunk, head spinning with desire he was apparently powerless to act on, skin hyper-sensitive to every place Enjolras was touching it with his lips, his nose, his chin, his hair. “Please,” he whispered, and that was apparently what Enjolras had been waiting for, because he _finally_ kissed him. Grantaire made an embarrassingly high sound of relief and opened his mouth immediately, one hand flying up to cling to the front of Enjolras’ robes.

Enjolras tilted his head and Grantaire pulled him closer, heart hammering in his chest, refusing to stop kissing him now they’d started. It was like Enjolras was actually magnetic, or magically charged. A Veela thing, perhaps? The thought slipped half-formed from Grantaire’s mind, preoccupied as he was with the heat of Enjolras’ mouth and the sensation of their tongues sliding against each other. Enjolras knelt on the chair, a leg either side of Grantaire’s, and Grantaire arched up and pulled him down in the same movement until Enjolras was sitting on him, straddling him.

There was a hand in his hair, and Grantaire groaned, getting an arm around Enjolras’ back to make sure he didn’t go anywhere. Somewhat abruptly, Enjolras pulled his head away, though he stayed where he was and slid the hand in Grantaire’s hair down to his jaw, thumb pressed against the bone. It took Grantaire a moment to focus, and he blinked stupidly in the face of Enjolras’ wondering gaze.

“What?” he muttered, suddenly nervous.

Enjolras shook his head and smiled slightly. “Just…you.”

Grantaire could _feel_ himself blushing. He tried to duck his head, but Enjolras tipped his chin up and kissed him again, and Grantaire could definitely get on board with that. “Speak for yourself,” he murmured between kisses, sure he’d float away if Enjolras wasn’t holding him down. He felt Enjolras smile against his mouth, an entirely new sensation, and delirious laughter bubbled up in his chest, escaping in breathless gasps as Enjolras settled himself more comfortably in his lap and cupped the back of his head, holding him exactly where he wanted.

Grantaire sighed and slid forward until they were pressed together up their fronts, and Enjolras made a sound like he’d been gutted and rolled his hips forward with a particularly desperate kiss. Grantaire dragged a hand down his back and twitched upwards helplessly, the fact that _he’d_ made Enjolras make that sound sending sparks through his brain. Enjolras broke away and pressed an open-mouthed kiss to Grantaire’s cheekbone, staying there and panting for a second afterwards.

“Stay?” he asked, and Grantaire closed his eyes because Enjolras sounded hoarse.

“As long as you want me,” he replied in a fit of honesty.

Enjolras pulled away so Grantaire could see his smile. “That might be a while.”

Grantaire grinned shakily. “Whatever you want.”

Enjolras kissed his temple, and it was so tender that Grantaire didn’t know what to do with himself. “I love you,” Enjolras said quietly.

Grantaire’s hands spasmed in the fabric of Enjolras’ robe, all the breath leaving his body at once. “Ngh?”

“I hope you don’t mind,” Enjolras continued, face out of view. Grantaire turned his head to press his forehead against Enjolras’ neck and laughed dizzily.

“ _Mind_ , he asks. As if I have been pathetically in love with you since…I don’t know, forever.”

Enjolras kissed his hair and then pulled back so they were facing each other. “Forever?” he asked, smiling.

Grantaire hid his face against Enjolras’ chest. “Shut up.”

Enjolras laughed, and Grantaire slid his hands down to the small of his back, pulling him closer. The laughter stopped as Enjolras grunted, and made a surprised high sound when Grantaire pushed his own hips upwards. “Ah,” Enjolras gasped, one of his hands slamming into the back of the chair. “Oh…”

“You okay?” Grantaire asked, only partly teasing.

Enjolras swallowed and took a deep breath before kissing him deeply, making a deep contented sound  that made Grantaire melt just a little bit. And then he ground down and Grantaire forgot how to breathe, arching up helplessly. “I want,” Enjolras muttered against his mouth, and Grantaire kissed away whatever he was going to say next, Enjolras’ lips soft and wet against his. Enjolras rolled his hips down again and Grantaire gasped, biting back a moan.

“Enjolras –”

“Yes.” Enjolras kissed him and did it again, and again, and Grantaire had never been so hard in his life, practically shaking, grip gone weak again.

“Enjolras, please…”

“ _Yes_.” Enjolras ground down particularly hard, and Grantaire whimpered. Enjolras curved his back and got his hands between them, tugging at the fastenings of Grantaire’s robes, and Grantaire tried to help him, but his fingers were trembling and useless. Still, they managed, and Grantaire kept kissing Enjolras as they worked his robe off his shoulders. Enjolras had to get up to undo the rest of it properly, but he kept kissing Grantaire. It probably slowed the process down a bit, but Grantaire didn’t care at all.

Enjolras went for the buttons on his shirt as soon as he could, and Grantaire moaned when he slipped a hand underneath and pressed his palm against the bare skin of his chest, right over his heart. Enjolras paused once he’d gotten Grantaire’s shirt undone and settled back in his lap, pressing their foreheads together and panting. “Wait, I need…need to ask.”

“What?” Grantaire regained some presence of mind and applied his shaking fingers to the fastenings of Enjolras’ robe, unhooking them as quickly as he could.

“Is this too soon?” Enjolras asked, sounding almost worried. “I mean…too fast, is it –”

“Merlin, what do you want me to do?” Grantaire laughed, struggling with a particularly stubborn hook. “Tattoo ‘take me, I’m yours’ on my forehead?”

Enjolras smiled. “You’re mine.” It wasn’t quite a statement – more a question without a question mark.

Grantaire kissed him, chest ballooning. “Well I’m certainly not anyone else’s,” he muttered against Enjolras’ lips. Enjolras kissed him back hard, doubts apparently gone because he was grinding down again and Grantaire’s fingers slipped on the hooks, losing purchase and barely holding on. Enjolras’ hands found them, curled around them and twined their fingers together loosely, and Grantaire sighed into his mouth because if he was holding them it meant that Grantaire couldn’t take them away and do something that might mess this up. “You’re so –” he gasped between kisses. “You’re just –”

“Mine,” Enjolras replied, barely audible, but more than enough to make Grantaire whine, bucking up even though the friction was already unbearable. Enjolras let go of one of his hands and started undoing the fastenings Grantaire hadn’t gotten to yet, pulling his robe open and drawing Grantaire’s hands inside. Grantaire followed his lead and slid them up under his shirt, and Enjolras moaned, actually _moaned_ , and desire twisted through Grantaire’s stomach like a sudden shock.

“Enjolras,” he breathed, sliding hands up Enjolras’ sides, and Enjolras’ hips stuttered, his eyes closed and lips parted. “Enjolras –”

“I want,” Enjolras said, and stopped, eyes opening and holding Grantaire arrested, captivated – he’d never seen pupils so big. It was only because they were practically nose-to-nose that he could see the tiny line of blue around them at all.

“Anything,” Grantaire said, sliding a hand round to flatten against Enjolras’ spine. “Everything.”

Enjolras kissed him almost savagely, wrenching his robe off his shoulders and only breaking away to pull his shirt over his head. “You’re perfect,” he muttered, one hand in Grantaire’s hair and the other on his chest, nails barely digging in, just promising more. “Grantaire –”

Grantaire hissed when Enjolras shifted, heart thudding loud enough for him to feel it in his ears. He settled his hands on Enjolras’ hips and held him still as he pushed upwards, and Enjolras’ bitten-back moan made that desire burn inside him again, demanding more. “Please,” he said, hardly sure what he was asking for.

But Enjolras seemed to understand, the hand on Grantaire’s chest dragging down (nails leaving scratch marks, making Grantaire throw his head back and gasp because Enjolras’ fingertips were  _hot_ ) to his belt, tugging at it and undoing it quickly. He made short work of the button and zipper too, and Grantaire whined when his hand slipped in and gripped him through his boxers. “ _Fuck_ , oh, oh –” Enjolras jerked his hand and Grantaire saw sparks, his back arching desperately. “Please, Enjolras –”

“Do you want to move to the bed?” Enjolras asked in a very low voice, and Grantaire swallowed, frantically trying to think.

“I don’t…Merlin, I don’t know, I can’t – ohhh, fuck, do that again.”

“This?” Enjolras dragged his thumb over the tip of Grantaire’s cock, still covered by his boxers, and Grantaire shuddered.

“You can’t ask me to make decisions right now!” he gasped.

“Fine.” Enjolras’ hands both flew to the waistband of his jeans, tugging insistently, and Grantaire lifted his hips to assist in their removal. His boxers were pulled down as well, and he pushed at them furiously, needing there to be absolutely no layers between him and Enjolras at all. Enjolras obviously agreed, because he stood up for a moment to shove his own trousers off. The shock of their bare legs against each other when Enjolras straddled him again was incredible. When their cocks came together as well, Grantaire gasped, chest lurching.

Enjolras kissed him again, pushing down and dragging those unnaturally hot fingertips through his hair. “Touch me,” he whispered, and Grantaire clung onto his shoulders with one arm and wrapped his other hand around their cocks. Enjolras made an obscene sound somewhere between a moan and a whine and thrust against him, forcing Grantaire to tighten his grip.

His head was spinning – he was burning wherever Enjolras touched him, everything in him aching for more, desperate and straining. Their kisses were messy now, interspersed with gasps and quiet moans, and the hand Enjolras had wound into his hair was pulling so hard there were tears in his eyes, but nothing had ever felt so good. Nothing had ever felt so intense.

“Grantaire –” Enjolras’ lips slid against his, voice hoarse and desperate. “Gr – oh, oh, Grantaire, Gran _taire_ –”

Grantaire felt him come, felt his whole body arch and tense, and he was so close, he was so close –

He was silent as he came, open-mouthed and mindless, all the sound knocked out of him for a few moments until he came back to himself, shivering with his forehead pressed against Enjolras’ shoulder. Before he had a chance to piece his thoughts together, Enjolras had pulled his head back and was kissing him deeply, and Grantaire moaned, sensitive to every tiny movement of their skin against each other.

“Stay,” Enjolras breathed, loosening his grip on Grantaire’s hair and sliding the hand down to cup his face. “Will you stay?”

“I’ll do anything you want.” Grantaire kissed his palm, then his lips again. “As soon as I can walk,” he added, and Enjolras laughed, eyes falling closed.

They didn’t make it to Enjolras’ bed for another few minutes, and didn’t leave it until the next afternoon, learning as much about each other’s bodies in the meantime as they could. Grantaire let Enjolras see the scars he couldn’t remember getting streaked across his skin, let him kiss them and trace their shapes. Let Enjolras push him into the mattress while Grantaire told him how to take him apart. How to make him writhe and cry out and beg. And then he learned how to do that to Enjolras, who had barely explored himself, let alone allowed anyone else the privilege. The pleasure.

They woke up curled around each other in the morning, and took their time talking between kisses, bringing each other to possibly the laziest orgasms of all time. The patch of sun from Enjolras’ window grew, moved across the bed to the floor, shrank again, and they finally peeled themselves out of bed to pick at the contents of Enjolras’ kitchen.

“I’m keeping you,” Enjolras murmured in his ear, hugging him from behind as he sliced almost-overripe tomatoes, half-stale bread toasting in the pan.

Grantaire grinned. “And with your permission –” He put the knife down and turned in Enjolras’ arms, kissing him with a smile. “I’ll keep you as well.”

“Granted,” Enjolras said at once, beaming. Grantaire could swear Enjolras had never looked so ethereally beautiful, or so relaxed and happy, and knowing that he was the one who had brought that out made something in his chest sing, an answering smile spreading across his face as they kissed again. The toast burned to cinders, but neither of them cared.

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed this, please consider [buying me a coffee!](https://ko-fi.com/A221HQ9) <3


End file.
